Chapter 9
I woke up the next day, my mind hazy, the sun glowing through my bedroom window. My mind spun with the thought of the gorgeous nude treasure my mother had hidden from me for all this time. The thought of her made my cock ache again.
Last night, I managed to get into my room without suffering a heart attack. And the pent up, unbelievable lust drove me to jerk myself off, and I came, seizing, jerking off to the thought of how she felt, how she looked, masturbating so hard that I came again, and again, and again, until I collapsed in bed in a mess of sweat and semen. Wild pictures danced before me – of her wet hair across the pale curve of her back, her open mouth, her dark eyes looking into mine… the soft feel of her bare skin, the plush push of her breast as she pressed past me, slick.
And then there was what I saw between her legs. The picture of that little, carefully trimmed triangle between her legs made my jaw ache. That hint of pink.
I stared up from my bed at the ceiling, as if I could somehow see through it. Up to her room. I wanted more.
I wanted to feel, much, much more.
The front door made a creaking noise. Dad was back. I heard him groaning.
“Partied all night?” Mom’s voice came from the kitchen. I guess she somehow made it down without me hearing her. Dad returned with a half-drunk grunt. Mom didn’t respond. I guess she gave up on communicating with him.
I dressed for another sunny day and went out, hoping things wouldn’t be too awkward. Maybe with dad in the house, mom could brush this off. Not that I wanted her to. But my stomach sank when I saw her.
She wore a lot more than yesterday, her look more subdued. She didn’t wear the slight robe that revealed her delicate legs. Instead, it was shorts that went down, and stopped mid thigh. On top, she had on another tank. A shawl draped over her shoulders. It was a tourist outfit. Conservative. It showed nothing that I wanted to see.
She made eye contact with me and held it. I nodded, trying to keep cool.
“Something interesting happened, last night,” said mom out loud to dad, maintaining her eye contact with me. My face went cold as the blood drained from it. Dad groaned from the couch, and I stood stuck, like prey. “Do you want to hear it, Ross?” Her voice was freezing. Tense. Chilled like ice. Her eyes like an eagle. She looked over at dad, who didn’t even bother with a response. “I guess not,” she muttered. She looked back to me.
A plate of sliced fruit moved in front of me. Mom set some tortillas and eggs down, a salsa dish, never looking away, trying to intimidate me.
Obviously, last night was a blunder. I started to regret everything again, and tried to think of something to say. Something to apologize with.
I tried whispering, “Last night-”
Mom raised a finger and spoke at a normal level, knowing dad was completely incapable of listening, much less participating in the discussion. “Listen,” her voice was definitive. Final. Firm. She laid down a series of royal declarations and edicts, each word like a hammer blow. “Last night was a strange, strange experience, weirder than our little adventure with the TSA. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so, so strangely for the last few days.” She glared at me disapprovingly before continuing. “But it’s nothing so strange that we can’t all just,” she took a deep breath, her chest making a subtle movement under her tank top, “we can’t all just get over it and move on. Way past it.” She nodded, as if that was the end. “Alright?”
I nodded, as if there was anything else I could do. “…Alright.”
It looked like all the fantasy and fun was over again.
“We do have several days left,” said mom, returning to cooking and dropping the subject. She looked disappointedly over to dad. “I wanted to show your father that beach we looked at yesterday, but clearly, he’s done for now. He’ll probably be out cold until dinner.” She shrugged. “So we’ll have to plan out today without him.”
“You mentioned a waterfall yesterday,” she continued. “You know where this waterfall is, right?”
I realized I hadn’t exactly found it. All I had was a hint from the local I paid yesterday. “I have a pretty good idea.”
“Alright, kid,” she said sternly. “Get your trunks on and lead the way.”
We made it onto the beach — this time, mom was in a black one piece that tied behind her neck. Long, broad strings went down, carrying the generous fabric that sealed her breasts away. The strings came down and broadened into a flat weave that covered her midriff. There was nothing seductive about it, nothing that hinted at her chest. Just thicker cloth, stretching over her breasts, even seeming to hide her form from view. The strings around her neck kept all that prisoner.
A bigger, broader shawl was wrapped completely around her waist, mostly covering her legs. Each step only revealed the thinnest white line of her leg, just a flash of color — none of the curve I beheld completely last night.
Only her shoulders were exposed, for a moment, but she pulled on a second shawl, a light cloth that draped over her neck, covering even the strings that held the fabric around her breasts up.
Mom was definitely wary. And cautious. These new clothes were her protection. I felt certain — she thought her son needed a firm reminder that she was his mother, and like it or not, he was going to look at her in a respectable way.
We got to the beach, and mom didn’t waste any time. She sat on an additional towel she brought, pulled out the oil, and applied it to herself without even looking my way. There was no special area of her body that needed attention — it was already covered by her clothes in advance. My disappointment, combined with sick guilt, ate at me.
I slapped some of the same oil on, anxious to do anything that could distract me, and raced into the surf, practicing a few different strokes through the gentle waves. The sun shone bright overhead as it crept into midday. Gulls made cries overhead. They circled and watched us, glinting brightly in the noon.
It didn’t take long at all for me to get bored. I launched out of the surf and onto the beach, and figured I could find the waterfall. My intuition told me to look where there were changes in elevation. Sure enough, in the palm forest, the beginnings of the hills emerged. Water had to be there. Springs were fed by mountains, the slow release of water from the stone. If there was running water, enough for a waterfall, it would be there.
“I’ll be back,” I shouted toward mom, who sat up, watching me carefully, silently from her towel. She gave a low, slight wave in response.
The hill rose, the palm forest grew denser. Vines seemed to emerge from the soil and worked their way upward. Rocky walls rose, jutting from the sandy soil, the ground grew firm, changed its angles. The green grew more vibrant. These were my clues.
I almost passed it, but luck was with me and I noticed a slight gap. Behind a cliff face, where a tree and its vines mostly obscured the rock, was the narrow entrance to what the local told me about. Anyone else would have passed it. It was probably a miracle that the local found it in the first place. The vegetation on the jungle floor leading through the wall seemed undisturbed… like nobody had ever been there.
I passed through, and the temperature shifted. It was cool, darker, misty. A fine spray drifted through the air, a soft light filtered through a thick canopy of vines, of tropical trees, of dark, natural stone walls painted with moss. And through it all, the sound of falling water made itself audible. A small, crisp, white waterfall poured downward, sending ripples and bubbles into a clear, pure pool. I looked down into the impossibly translucent water. It had to be eight feet deep, a dozen feet wide, easily. It was a plunge basin, where a long, long history of erosion and gravity drove the pool floor deeper, and deeper, and deeper, the process taking hundreds of thousands of years.
And now, it was deep enough, broad enough to swim. A little stream drifted off the top of the pool, wandering out through the thick mass of trees and rocks.
This was the kind of discovery that I’m sure the Spaniards would have killed for. Forget gold. This was… a hidden paradise. A fountain of youth, if there ever was one.
It was very possible that a place like this could cheer mom up. It could excite her and help her forget how strange and awkward the last few days had been. At the least, maybe it would help her forget things, just for a moment. I decided that was worth it.
I jogged back to get mom, growing more excited to show her as I sped back.
When I made it back onto the beach, mom was laying on her stomach, her face hidden by the sun hat. Her long, long legs were uncovered in the sun. A lump rose in my throat as I saw the gorgeous, pale creamy flesh that rose up along her thighs, arching into her buttocks. The slight dip between her cheeks evoked the thought of her in the shower, the water rushing down her back, around the sides of her ass and between those lovely cheeks, streaming down the inside of those beautiful legs.
I didn’t want to announce myself, but did, reluctantly. She turned to her side, reaching for her shawl, quickly using it to cover herself. She looked at me from behind the sunglasses. It was hard to read her. But there wasn’t much time for hesitation, and I didn’t want her mood to ruin how special and beautiful that spot was.
“Wanna see something incredible?” I gave a brave smile. Hopefully she’d like it. “I found the waterfall.”
She hesitantly stood up. “Alright.” She gathered her things, carefully and modestly moving downward with her legs together, careful not to squat. The way a lady would move down, doing everything she could to keep from scandalizing her form.
Once she had everything, she started walking toward my end of the beach, slowly. But I couldn’t take it. My heart thudded with excitement — if there was something here that was going to bring the same joy she had earlier when I showed her the beach, it was going to be the little hidden cove of paradise in the jungle. I had no reason to hesitate. She had to see it now.
“Come on!” I grabbed her hand and started running.
“Brett!” Mom yelped as I dragged her along, clutching her stuff under one arm. “Brett, slow down!”
“Hurry up!” I pulled her along and we made our way quickly down the beach, into the forest, into the dark of the canopy. The hills rose, the ground grew firmer, rippled and changed as we got closer and closer to the hill. I heard mom gasping behind me as she tried to keep up with me pulling her along. Her voice heaved.
“Is it… really that good?” She gasped as she half ran, carefully trying not to trip on the increasing vines and rocks.
“It’s incredible,” I reassured her. The familiar rock face was ahead — the tree that obscured the entry served as a door. I stopped in front of it. Mom put her hands on her knees next to me, breathing fast. Her sunglasses were askew over her eyes. She took them off, clutching them with a small hand.
“You ready?” I must have been grinning from ear to ear — she responded with a slight smile, a nervous look, but she seemed hopeful, even a little trusting.
“Sure, baby.” She said, breathing deep. “Lead the way.”
I pulled into the entry and quickly moved to the side so I could see her face as she entered. She ducked, the curve of her breasts becoming only a little more pronounced, and then she straightened up inside. Looked around. Her jaw dropped.
“Oh my god.” She laughed. “Brett, this is…” She spun around, taking everything in. “This is incredible! How did you find this place?” She seemed happily lost, gasping in awe of the waterfall, of the hidden quality of the pool, of the impossibly clear water below.
I gave a running start and crashed into the water. It was cold — much colder than the sun-warmed ocean. I surfaced, letting the cold shock my system. I gave a quick shake of my head and smiled upward at her, gesturing toward me. “Come on!”
Mom hesitantly stepped toward the pool. Her soft, white feet touched the edge. Little ripples proceeded from her toes as she tested the temperature. She gave a little unsure tone.
“It’s easier if you just jump in,” I reminded her. “Come on.”
The excitement in my voice must have convinced her. She smiled like a young girl, took off her hat, both shawls, revealing the white of her skin which hinted at me once again. She stepped back, then gave a little running hop with a yelp, gracefully falling into the pool. Her arms pulled at the water, and she emerged from below, her long, dark hair sticking to her face, her neck. Like in the shower.
She swam gently back, looking up at the canopy. I watched her as she showed her delight with this place. It was special. Intimate. Perfect. “Most people don’t get to see places like this in their lives… ever.” She marveled, grinning as she peered up the waterfall. She settled against the rock edge of the plunge pool, rested her arms out of the water, feeling the smooth, mossy surface with those delicate fingers.
“Did you think you’d ever see anything like it?” I asked.
She seemed more comfortable, finally. “Not unless it was on Facebook. Though one time,” she fell into thought, “there was this bar I snuck into a few times, back when people didn’t really check ID’s. A real college town,” she explained. “They had a little room with velvet furniture back there that seemed so special, so closed off to me. It was such a mysterious and cozy spot. There were books, mirrors, antique lamps, classy stuff, nothing like you’d expect to see in a college town bar, especially for a college like mine. I get the same feeling about this spot. So hidden. So perfect.”
I blinked, trying to imagine mom as a younger woman, somebody my age, in a ‘college like that’.
Mom continued, “It wasn’t until some friends told me about the bar that I learned that it was just a secret make-out room. You had to bribe the owners to use it. More of a den of vice than a classy den, I guess,” she laughed.
“You never used it?” I asked, curious.
She snorted. Her skin along her neck and shoulders speckled with goose bumps. “I might have.” She looked away from me, towards the white mist rising from the waterfall. We listened to the rushing sound of the clear, cool water.
It was so nice, being able to talk with her, to see her enjoying herself. To see her smile as she let memories drift by. “I had a secret spot too,” I said, wanting to open up to her as well. Mom looked at me again, curious. “There was a storage room I’d hide in when I skipped class.” Mom’s lips drew into a disapproving frown. “Jeeze, mom. It was just history class.” I rolled my eyes. “I passed that without any issues.” Her frown grew less noticeable. “But I went there a lot after school. My buddies and I would hang out, play video games…”
“You mean,” mom interrupted, “you would drink booze and get high?” She shook her head, wryly smiling as she finished out the part I really wanted to keep secret. “What, you really think I didn’t know?” I was shocked. There was no way she could have known. I wanted to come up with a lie to cover it up, but she continued, “your ‘buddies’ ratted you out to their moms, by the way. Remember when they all suddenly couldn’t hang out with you anymore and you told me you thought that maybe they were mad at you? Or that you were just lame now? It wasn’t because you were lame,” she started laughing. “It’s because we all found out, and their parents grounded them worse than they’d ever experienced in their little lives.”
I could have sunk under the water and drowned myself from the embarrassment. She knew? The whole time? “But…” I wondered, “why didn’t you ground me too?”
Mom shrugged. “What good would it have done? Your friends were already out of commission. That was the end of your extra-curricular fun.” She teased, “until college, I’m sure.” She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “And it’s not like your mother was perfect in high school either.”
“Sure,” I said sarcastically, not believing her. “You’ve been nothing but serious forever.”
Mom sighed. “Brett, do you really think your mom didn’t cheat on homework in high school? Do you really think I was always so stern and square? That I didn’t kiss boys? That I didn’t have fun?”
It didn’t really occur to me that she used to be so young before. Like… young. My age. Youthful. Full of life, mischief, hormones, bad jokes, worse habits. She hung out with boys. She kissed them. I teased her, “you actually had fun?”
“Uh, yeah,” mom leaned her head to the side. The white arch of her neck curved upward. Her wet, dark hair curled around the side of her face, lifted from her shoulders. She was relaxed, loosened up. All the tenseness and caution she had earlier was gone. She was pleasantly absorbed in the memories. “I drank and smoked with everyone else in high school. We all got high. We’d throw things at people’s houses at night, things like bricks. Or toilet paper. We were all so… crazy. We even went to the pool at night and skinny dipped.” My stomach flipped. She continued, not noticing that she had slipped into a dangerous topic, “We snuck into abandoned places, pulled pranks. We had cops chase us, almost got caught a few times. Oh god, it was the crazy 80’s! Nuclear war was going to happen. We didn’t have anything to lose.”
She really was a young woman before. She skinny dipped. Kissed boys. Had feelings. Not just emotions, but feelings. She was a real person who used to be my age. It made me feel strange. My mind was opening to the fact that while she was a woman, what she really was on the inside… was a girl.
She’s a girl and she used to skinny dip. Her smooth arms stretched out. She was totally relaxed, enjoying the cool water of the pool, taking in the freshness of the scenery, enjoying memories, sharing my company. It was like she really was a girl again… and that I was a boy she could kiss.
I felt brave, suddenly. “Skinny dipping, huh?” The words escaped my mouth. I didn’t feel like taking the topic back. I didn’t feel like being ashamed. “Would you ever do it again?”
Her eyes snapped open. She lifted her head, droplets falling from her hair. Her dark eyes stared into mine. The look on her face was serious. I took a great step — I was aware of it. But this was a beautiful moment with a beautiful girl. I wanted to push forward.
My mother kept staring. Watching me to see if this time I would apologize, or break down. She smirked. “No.”
My heart fell.
“But,” she said, pausing, barely tipping her head to the side, her eyes narrowing, her light pink lips moving in slow motion, “I dare you to.” Her words slapped me in the face, hard. Then she held her breath. She didn’t look away. Her cheeks started to turn pink. My mother’s dark, lovely eyes stared deep into my soul. She was asking me to undress.
I wouldn’t ruin this moment for the world. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before. She had already seen me. Seen my throbbing erection in the bathroom last night. Seen the way my cock strained at my trunks during the day before. But those times were all accidents, misunderstandings, horny mistakes.
She dared me again, very deliberately, her pink, wet lips moving, her voice almost… dusky. “Take them off if you think you’re so cool.”
And without hesitating, I did. I kept my eyes on hers. My hands went down, plunging through the water. I kicked to keep afloat, stared at her, gritting my jaw tensely closed as I pulled my trunks down. I freed my legs, feeling water rushing around all of me with a sudden chill. I pulled the empty trunks up through the water. And threw them, up and behind me. They lightly splashed on the ground, hidden in the shadows of the surrounding forest.
Her eyes widened. Her pink cheeks… darkened. She kept looking at me, but I realized that with the water being so clear, I could see the pattern on her one piece. I could tell the shape of her legs through the movement and ripples from the waterfalls. I could see the clear details of her legs, below her waist. And she could see through the water too. I saw her throat bob in a swallow.
I kicked, swam to the side. Her eyes followed me. Her lips slightly parted. She was like a graceful creature of the forest, skittish, watching, tensed. Her eyes flicked down. And then up. And then down again.
I felt myself getting harder. And harder. Despite the cold, my cock swelled, the deep cool of the water flowed around my pelvis, around my length, my head feeling the frigid shock of the shadowed water. Mom’s eyes tracked lower, and fixated on my cock. And stayed.
She didn’t look away. My mother’s lips parted a little further. I could see her shoulders moving. She was measuring her breaths. Trying to keep from moving too suddenly. From breathing too heavily.
The cool water around my genitals and the way she stared without stopping strengthened my resolve. She was a girl. I was boy. We were playing together.
Skinny dipping.
“Now,” I said, my voice deepening. “Your turn.”
Mom looked up. “I’m…” She blinked, her cheeks flushing. “I can’t…”
“Fair’s fair,” I said with finality, staring intensely into her eyes. I looked down at her graceful neck, down below the water where her pale legs gently kicked. I slowly drew my gaze up until I came to her eyes, which carefully observed the way I looked at her body.
She looked hesitant. Tense. Her eyes went back down. She could see my hardness in the water. Her shoulders moved as she took a deep breath. She looked up, her gaze sure beneath those lovely, dewy lashes. I knew she made a decision in that moment.
Her left hand moved from the smooth rock face of the pool. It drifted toward her neck, where her one piece was tied. Her fingers stretched out. Our eyes were locked together, as mom’s fingers gently wrapped around the black string of the one piece…
Then my mother pulled the string out of its knot.
She let go, and the tense strings went suddenly slack, her breasts dropping by a couple inches within the black fabric covering her chest. The heavy shape of her teats suddenly revealed itself under the undone one-piece, the weight of her chest suddenly free, no longer constrained. Both strings fell lightly down her chest, resting on top of the black cotton triangle that covered her tits. The strings seemed to rest there forever, but her hand continued to move.
My heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Her fingers pinched the fabric at the top of her round, heavy breasts… and she pulled it slowly downward.
Inches, and inches, and inches of white, creamy skin suddenly brightened before me. In the shadowy darkness of the pool, it was like there was a light shining from her, brightening my vision as the fabric went down, down, drawing farther down her left breast than her right. Until the fabric reached the water. She was just barely too low for her nipple to be exposed to the open air — but the fabric continued to move.
In the rippling darkness of the impossibly clear water, a coral pink shimmered below the surface. I could see a sharp point through the ripples. My mother’s nipple, hardened in the cold, cold water. Her hands moved down, now pulling the fabric from both breasts, a second dot of pink greeting me on her right. The fullness of her tits sparkled, her flesh relaxing, now completely free of the one piece. The swim suit kept moving downward. I could see the dark dot of her belly button, the smooth flesh of her tummy shining below the water. Her grip on the swim suit reached her waist.
There wasn’t much left on her.
She kicked forward gently, giving herself just enough space to lean forward, to reach downward, to grab the bottom of her swim suit. She gave a soft laugh, keeping eye contact with me, and in a smooth motion that made my heart palpitate, she pulled it down her long, long legs…
And unveiled the most hidden part of herself to me.
Below her tummy, under her hips, between the ample curve of the sides of her behind lay an impossibly white triangle, marked with a detailed patch of pubic hair. Her most fragile, her most vulnerable, her most private and soft spot. The smallest hint of pink lips sat below it.
The one piece sank all the way down her legs. She hooked it with a pale foot and brought it up.
Then the one piece rose out of the water. She threw it behind her, as I threw mine. Her eyes looked at me; wide, dark, droplets of mist clinging to her lashes. Her pink lips reddened. Her cheeks were bright. Her breaths rapid in the fresh cold of the water.
“What now?” She broke the silence, daring me to speak. Her chest heaved under the water as her breathing quickened tensely. The coral tips of her tits bobbed as she kicked, and shivered.
I had no idea what to do. But I needed more.
I had to have more.
“What did you guys do as you skinny dipped?” I asked through my clenched jaw, hoping for a clue, a signal, anything that would bring me forward and closer to the woman that gave birth to me.
“Just swam,” said mom, smiling shyly, mischievously. “That’s all.” She reached an arm into the water, and pulled herself to her right, along the edge of the pool. Her dark hair trailed gently behind her. I swam to my right as well. We circled each other. I tried to keep calm, but my cock was still surging with strength. The screaming lust in me felt like a frenzy. I don’t know if it was the cold or the situation but I felt myself shaking.
While we swam, I stared hungrily at her form. Her hips sometimes crested the water as she pulled with her arms. Her breasts moved the water in waves from her, and with every stroke she turned, carefully. My mother’s nipple cut the water like a knife. Her arms went up. Her white hip crested the water, the pink between her legs gliding in the mirage of the shallows.
I couldn’t take it.
I needed more from her.
I needed much, much more.
I stopped swimming and held my spot, while mom kept up her stroke, edging closer. She angled her head, curious, and looked at me, not quite stopping, but slowing.
I had to get closer.
My breath caught in my chest as I pushed against the cold, smooth edges of the pool. Toward her. Toward my mother. Toward… Nora.
A girl.
I drew close. Within five feet. She looked at me, apprehensive, her soft cheeks bright red. Four feet. Her pale skin illumined everything. Her breaths went faster, and faster. Three feet. The water rippled, bounced lightly between us, moving gently, back and forth between her breasts and me. She stared, unblinking, her eyes widening.
Two feet. Her eyes slowly closed. Opened, wider than before. Her pink, soft lips parted, as if she were trying to say something.
I could see every detail of her pale skin, goose bumps raising along her arms, the tiny pores in her flushed face, her smooth, marble-like shoulders… down her chest, at the hard, now scarlet nipples just inches from the surface. Her chest shivered with nervous breaths. I could feel the breeze coming from her mouth. I wanted to breathe her in.
One foot.
We were so close. I looked down into Nora’s eyes. At my mother, who looked up to me. Almost close enough for us to touch again.
All it would have taken was a slight move from either of us. I could reach out at any time. Pull her to me, and our bodies would touch. I could press her flesh to mine.
I could take her.
My erection pushed out too, a tiny space from her slowly treading legs, the pale of her thighs swirling in and out of my peripheral. The jewel of pink between her legs was so achingly close, only inches from the head of my cock.
You could take her.
Her cheeks were now a flushed, desperate red. And her eyes… a soft brown. Flecks of dark, deep color circled her iris. Her pupils were so wide. Dilated. Excited. Deeper than this pool. Clearer than the water.
It’s now, or never.
It was time to lean forward, to kiss her.
Now, or never.
It was time. To grab her, to seize her, pull her close, feel her, tear into her, ravage her flesh, to enter her, to take her, to make her mine. More than anything else in the world — I wanted it, I wanted her. And from the way she trembled, panting, looking up at me, I could tell. She wanted the same.
Now.
I reached.
She suddenly pulled back, her hand went up between us and pushed against me, against my chest. I floated back, stunned. She turned her head.
“Wait, please,” I groaned. I could hear the pain in my voice. But she started moving backwards, her eyes down and to the side, looking away.
She made it to the edge of the pool and turned, her back to me. Her arms went up, and she pushed herself out. Water cascaded down her back, gorgeous, silvery streams that arced over her, falling like stars. Her glorious, heart shaped bottom emerged, the dark line between her cheeks rising out. She pushed herself up, and sat on the edge, her breasts exposed to the open air, the goosebumps visible even from where I tread water, incapable of breathing.
Mom got up, water dripping from everywhere on her. She strode slowly, carefully, a hand over her breasts, another covering the private space between her legs. She walked carefully, angled to the side so that even the fingers between her legs were hidden from me.
She found her bathing suit, bent down, the glorious curve of her ass accentuating itself, her breasts hanging low, the tips of her nipples pointing heavily downward as she leaned forward to pick it up. But that glorious, mythical pink jewel between her legs remained hidden, on purpose.
Wordlessly, she put her one piece back on. The black cloth went up her legs, smoothly stretched up, over her belly button, pulling over her breasts, compressing their shape behind the fabric. Her hands reached up and behind her, tying the string. Through it all, my mother never looked at me.
I felt my heart aching.
She stood there for a moment, stuck. Something in her face seemed confused. Hurt. Like she was searching for answers that nobody could give. Her lips were tightly drawn. Her eyes were dark.
“I’m headed back. Your father said he’d take me dancing tonight,” she said, her tone even, without a hint of feeling, even for dad. It was as if she only said it to avoid saying something else. She turned and left without another word.
For several stunned minutes I tread water, trying to understand. But of course, it was easy to see.
I had gone too far.
What the hell was I doing? How could I? How could I get that close, be so forward, be so blatantly wanting her? What kind of sick, demented monster would do that? Why had I ruined everything — why couldn’t I just let the moment be perfect, let her have just a few seconds of peace to be herself, to be with somebody she could trust?
I let myself sink in the water and let the air in me go. I wanted to drown. I wanted to die and never, ever wake up.